


Holmes and the Herring

by DaringlyDomestic



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 20:03:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7697653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaringlyDomestic/pseuds/DaringlyDomestic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dialogue Writing Exercise with the prompt:</p><p>"Arguing over domestic things (chores, takeaway, etc.)"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Holmes and the Herring

_Crash_.

Sherlock jerks awake.

"Fucking hell!"

Sherlock settles back into the comforter, squeezes his eyes shut, and waits. John should reach his bedroom door in three…..two….one -

**KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK**

The door rattles on the hinges. Sherlock runs a hand through his hair, ruffling his curls, and pulls himself up to rest against the headboard.

"Who is it?"

The slam of the door hitting the wall echoes through the bedroom.

"Don't be smart."

Sherlock opens his mouth, but John is clearly just building up steam. _A seven a.m. tirade, wonderful._

"Why the hell are there twenty-seven barrels of pickled herring in our living room? Seriously, Sherlock. Herring. _Pickled_ herring. You don't even like herring! If this is just some sort of experiment to see how many barrels of pickled herring it takes to piss John off, you have severely overestimated my patience."

Sherlock stretches his back and rolls his eyes.

"If you had taken the time to look carefully instead of tromping through the barrels with no regard for retaining the quality of the testing conditions or the fish, you would have noticed that each barrel is from a different distributor around London. It's the only commonality, John! No common age range, income bracket, habits, hobbies, or proclivities, but they all had a frankly disturbing amount of pickled herring in their pantries."

John presses his hands to his eyes and breathes deeply. Perhaps he is still sleeping. He'll wake up and this nightmare will be over. After all, Sherlock had been making more of an effort to keep the flat relatively clean recently. John even saw him hoovering last week, though that may have had more to do with the powdered paprika he'd dropped all over the rug.

John does not respond beyond tightening his fist and digging his nails into his clenched palm, hoping to wake himself.

"You have questions."

John blinks his eyes open in surprise. Sherlock does not sound at all defensive. He sounds resigned.

"One or two, yeah."

Sherlock huffs with impatience.

"We got a case. Lestrade brought it over early this morning. No fresh scenes, only case files compiled by the highly competant Scotland Yard, so it didn't seem like I should wake you."

John takes a deep calming breath.

"Appreciate that but that's not really the issue here."

Sherlock quirks an eyebrow.

"For God's sake, we talked about this last week, remember? You said that you would put more effort into organizing the chaos we call a flat."

Sherlock blinks rapidly, not understanding.

"It's for a case, John."

John sighs in defeat. The cases will always come first, he knows that.

"I know but…"

Sherlock straightens his shoulders, prepping for a fight."

"Maybe next time you don't stack twenty-seven barrels of herring at the bottom of the stairs, where you're roommate is bound to trip over them. Breakfast?"

Sherlock chuckles his agreement and yells down the hall,

"No herring!"


End file.
